Jailbait
by Greengrenade96
Summary: Mathew is seventeen and attending his first year of college. He lives with his papa and times have been tough, Francis had recently lost his job. But when he reconnects with an old high school friend who manages to get him a job, Matthews life is thrown into turmoil. The fact that he's twice Matthews age and a complete and utter bad influence doesn't stop him from falling head over
1. Chapter 1

I hunkered down onto my bed with an exhausted sigh, I found I was in a perpetual state of exhaustion at the moment. The past year had been hard, my Papa had lost his job and so I had to take on more shifts at my part time job to keep us afloat. That paired with me attending my first year of college had resulted in a stressful few months indeed.

By some miracle papa had met up with an old highschool friend whilst at the supermarket -Some Gilbert Beilschmidt- and he'd gotten him a job at a call centre. Today was his first day, and the first evening I'd spent home alone in a long time.

Thankfully this meant I could go back to just doing two shifts a week instead of six and could finally catch up with my studies. I decided to kick my night off by taking a nice long shower, taking the liberty of singing at full volume with the knowledge no one was about.

When the hot water finally ran out and I fled the little cubicle I grabbed the fluffiest towels I could find, wrapping one around my waist and twisting the other up onto my head. The cool air nipped at my heels as I hot footed it across the hall to my bedroom, slamming windows shut as I went.

It was small and simple, with the bare minimum amount of furniture, we had never been able to afford much. I had collected a number of Hockey posters over the years to make it my own though and there was a small bookshelf in the corner, crammed with books I'd saved from charity shops and bargain bins.

I quickly patted myself dry and slipped into some fresh clothes so I could fend off the shivers, rubbing my hair dry and pitching the towels into a corner. When I glanced in the little mirror balancing at the foot of my bed I found my hair to be a mess of tight ringlets, stood up at awkward angles as it so often loved to do after being wet. I sighed in mild annoyance as I forced my fingers through it, attempting to straighten it a little so I looked less like a sheep. When it just got worse I gave up, turning my attention instead to the stack of homework that had steadily been growing on my night stand. I decided I'd start with my favorite subject, History.

OoooooooooooooooooooooO

I had bombed through my History paper, finished my short story for English and was halfway through my Math homework when my phone chimed and disturbed me. I dropped the pen I had been holding and threw my arms up into a back cracking stretch, flopping backward on my bed before scooping up my phone.

' **Papa- Mathieu, I have invited Gilbert over for dinner tonight to say thank you, could you start cooking it for me. Merci 3'** The text from my papa read and I felt my chest tighten slightly with anxiety.

Well heck. I didn't really like meeting people, or anything to do with people if I was honest. I'd never been to a doctor, but I'd bet my favourite red sweater that I suffered from some kind of anxiety disorder. I just froze up when I had to talk to people I didn't know, like my brain suddenly just stopped working and I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. So generally I kept to myself at college and then didn't really leave the house the rest of the time. I did have one friend at college -Alfred- we were neighbors so i'd known him since I was six. Generally though, he forgot about me, he was quite popular and had lots of other friends.

As if that wasn't reason enough, I already wasn't thrilled with the idea of meeting Gilbert. When papa had come back from the supermarket after bumping into him, he had proceeded to tell me all the wild stories of his childhood with Gil. From parties to drugs, he sounded like a trouble maker and someone I'd want to avoid. Then again he'd be thirty-four now like papa so he'd probably have grown up a little, maybe tonight would be okay after all.

I checked the time on my phone and realised I should probably start the cooking, they'd be here in only forty minutes.

OoooooooooooooooooooO

One hand balanced my Math homework against my hip, reading question nine whilst my other hand stirred the spaghetti sauce. I dropped my spoon in favor of pulling the pencil from between my teeth, scribbling down my attempt at an answer. Factorials never had been a strong suit of mine.

I switched quickly back to the spoon when the sauce began bubbling, stirring distractedly as I frowned at the next question. I hadn't heard the front door open, but I did hear the slightly nasal snicker that sounded to my left. And there he was. The famous Gilbert Beilschmidt. My breath left me in a rush and my jaw literally dropped, pencil clattering to the floor.

He was hot, like ridiculously impossibly hot. He had pale skin and even paler hair, cut in a choppy mess atop his head. His jaw was sharp and piercings in both his lip and brow glinted at me as he smirked. He was clad in a pair of shredded black jeans and a band T, looking nothing like a man over thirty should. My lungs started to scream from lack of oxygen and I spluttered, scrambling down after my pencil as an excuse to look away. My face flooded with colour. Thankfully papa chose that moment to flounce into the room and save me. He threw his keys on the counter and took over the sauce stirring, fluffling my hair on the way past and embarrassing me further.

"Merci cherie." He chirped and I took that as a dismissal, scurrying from the room with my head hung in shame.

OoooooooooooooooooooO

I had taken residence at the dining table in the adjoining room to the kitchen, spreading my homework out in front of me. They stayed in the kitchen while papa cooked, I couldn't really make out what they were saying from here, but I found myself strangely distracted. It was probably just his accent, I reasoned. He had a hint of a German accent, twisting some words into a rough sound that was intoxicating. Nope. No. Had to concentrate. Factorial nine was…?

The chair across from me made a loud squeak as it was pulled out, making me jump and squiggle across my page. He had come in and sat down across from me, gesturing towards the kitchen with his beer bottle before sipping at it.

"Uh.. Francis said food would be ready in a sec."

"Oh." Is all I can say and an awkward silence stretches out. I find I can't look away from him, every time I try my gaze will anxiously flick back to after a few seconds, much to his obvious amusement. Some other part of my brain registered that his hair was not only pale, but actually white. So when the silence stretched on too long and I panicked thats what I blurted.

"Why is your hair white? Did you just feel like dying it beyond recognition?"

"It's natural." He quipped back instantly, large grin taking over his face and I couldn't decide if I believed him.

"But you're only thirty-four, how do you already have hair as white as fricking snow?" It wasn't like me to curse, and I felt my cheeks warm a little. I was stressed okay? As I said I generally didn't talk to other people.

"My mother was struck by lightning while pregnant with me."

"Wah…" I was utterly bewildered by the strange man across from me, he even had the gall the wink at me.

"Don't listen to anything he say." My papa chided as he hurried in, placing a steaming plate in front of both of us before disappearing to retrieve his own and a glass of wine. I had to hurry to move my books out of the way, waiting until he was out of sight again before I peek back up at my table mate. Red orbs were peering back at me curiously, for a moment there was silence but then his gaze switched to my disgardedbooks.

"So how's school treating ya? You're what, sixteen?."

"Seventeen…" I corrected with a sigh, great he was going to attempt adult talk now.

OoooooooooooooooooooO

We had finished our food long ago and I had continued doing my homework there as an excuse to stay. They didn't pay me any attention -which I was glad for- I was just happy to sit and listen to that lilting accent.

He would stumble over a word every now and then, changing it last second. I imagined he would of been swearing like a sailor if I wasn't about, and I found that annoyed me more than it usually would. I was seventeen, I would be eighteen in a few months, I was practically an adult. Sometimes it sucked being treated like a kid. When he stumbled over another word I sighed softly, his gaze flicked over and that seemingly ever present smirk reappeared. For a moment I was distracted by how that tugged on his lip ring, he tongue swiped at it subconsciously and a thrill went through me. That's when I decided it was time to excuse myself, not wanting to make anymore of a fool of myself. God… Please don't tell me that was my 'type'


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey guys sorry about the long wait I lost the notebook I usually write in and had no motivation to rewrite my work at all, finally found it and edited so here you go, sorry again xxx**_

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

I didn't see him again until Friday, although he was on my mind nearly every day. It was ridiculous really, he was quite literally twice my age and yet unlike anyone I'd ever met before. And apparently I had a thing for German accents, who knew?

This time I knew ahead of time so had approximately two days for the apprehension to build. When I finished college unexpectedly early on the Friday I wandered the house alone for the afternoon, a buzz of nervous energy. I scrubbed down the kitchen twice and traipsed the hoover throughout the house, feeling utterly ridiculous the entire time. He was my dad's friend, not to mention he was old…

And yet I couldn't help but change my clothes no less than four times before finally deciding to be daring and wear the fitted black jeans papa had bought for my last birthday and a long sleeved tee. I had told my papa that I would cook for the night -my treat- and had decided on a simple stir fry, something not easy to mess up. I began chopping up my ingredients; onion, pepper and the like, when I heard the front door open and then Francis's head bobs around the corner.

"How's it going pumpkin?" He enquires, always wanting to be the one in control of the kitchen, but when I give him an awkward thumbs up he retreats to the dining room. For a moment mine and Gilbert's eyes meet as he peers into the room and my heart does this little flip.

Yeah, I'm fucked.

I start frying the chicken and then the veggies, one by one. I watch as they begin to sizzle and pop, losing myself and failing to notice that Gilbert has come in, until the fridge bangs shut. When my head snaps towards him I find him with a fresh beer in hand and an amused look on his face as he comes up besides me. He starts rooting in the drawer to my left for the bottle opener, gaze flicking down to observe the now robotic flipping motion I have fallen into.

"Whatcha making?"

"Um," My brain stalls for a second as I can't help but get lost in those incredibly red eyes, standing out more today due to the checkered shirt he was wearing of the same color.

"Chicken risotto?" It sounds more like a question and ruby orbs roll.

"Relax kid, I don't bite." He mocks before swaggering from the room. I can't stop my cheeks flashing the color of the peppers I flip.

The food is done a mere five minutes later, not much time to compose myself at all. When I plate up and serve I am pleasantly surprised papa has placed half a glass of wine at my place and shoots me a wink. I quickly take a sip, crinkling my nose at the slightly bitter taste and both adults chuckle.

We tuck in and immediately papa beams at me and exclaims. "This is wonderful Mathieu!" Both our gazes flick to Gilbert, who is too preoccupied shoveling food into his mouth to notice. Suddenly he jumps and yelps, shooting Francis a scowl.

"Hey! What was that for?" Paps simply sighs and I can't help but giggle at their antics.

"Oh shit, um yeah I dunno I usually eat take-away , but this is fuckin' great."

"Language!" Francis scolds him, hands throwing upwards in exasperation and the toothy grin Gil cuts me has me snorting. He deftly turns the conversation to work, distracting my papa from his oncoming hissy fit and I simply sit and eat and listen. And I find myself having fun. Apparently papa is real good at his job and people seem to love his accent, no surprises there. Gilbert finishes first and goes back for seconds, reappearing with another beer and the wine bottle, doing a funny little mocking bow as he tops my father up. I had been slowly sipping at my own glass, trying to savor it and a warm sensation had creeped into my stomach and cheeks.

I finish my food, cross the cutlery neatly on my plate and finally they remember me.

"You look nice this evening Mathieu…" Francis ponders aloud and Gil immediately replies with a guffle.

"Probably had his secret girlfriend over before you came home."

"Gilbert! I'll have you know my Mathieu is an angel." The man in question turns to appraise me momentarily with a raised brow and I can't help the squirm in my stomach as a smirk appears.

"Nah, this one has to have a secret girlfriend."

My father practically whines aloud, shooting me a distressed look and in a moment of -drunken- honesty I blurt.

"Actually, I'm gay." Papa of course already knows this as I share pretty much everything with him, but Gilbert reacts in the most casual way I'd yet to experience.

"So? Secret boyfriend then, no difference." I blink in surprise, and his gaze holds mine for a moment too long before it slants sidewards and white teeth flash. I glance automatically and see papa looking as if about to have a heart attack and so I quickly conceded to sedate any worries.

"No, no you know I don't really go out papa."

"Well that settles it," He concludes suddenly, springing to his feet and hurrying from the room with a muttered. "Now I'm off to sort desert out."

As soon as he's out of sight Gil turns to me and slumps low in his seat.

"Well hey don't worry, some guys like cute little shut-ins" He says this with perfect simplicity and yet my breath quivers around the word cute. We fall into a short silence, his eyes roam the room and he takes a slow -and what I perceive to be nervous- sip of his beer. He avoids my gaze for all of five seconds before glancing back, eye lighting up.

"Oh, hey wanna see a magic trick?" When I nod he leans forward slightly in his seat, as if to share some great secret, and his eyes cross as he peers down. I follow his gaze and stare in mild amuzement as he sucks lightly on his lip, his lip ring unhooks and spins before disappearing into his mouth. His tongue pops out and the thing is now hooked around a tongue piercing I had not noticed and then he places it back.

"Tada!" I am utterly transfixed, his lips a slightly darker color from the abuse but I force myself to murmur airly so not to seem too weird.

"You have your tongue pierced too?"

"Yuh Huh, you looking to get any piercings or tats?" He queries but papa chooses that moment to appear with a tray of ice cream bowls, cutting me off as he places them in front of us.

"Yeah I'd lov-"

"No he isn't. Don't go giving him any ideas Gilbert." But he is shooting me the scornful look, we fall into a slightly awkward silence but much ice cream seems to be enjoyed.

"So Gilbert what about you, any girlfriends?"

The man in question returns him with a dry look and takes his sweet time to answer, then again maybe I'm ointent on that answer.

"Eh some girlfriends some boyfriends but you know how it is, I get bored," He says casually, eyes looking anywhere but me. My papa takes no time to swoop in and crow though, perhaps forgetting my presence.

"Oh-ho is the famously wild Gilbert Beilschmidt losing his touch?"

"Hell no! Heh at the ten year high school reunion, which you didn't go to! Anyway.. Yeah, Mandy Greenwood was all over me."

"No!" My father gasps in shock, leaning in drunkenly to the gossip.

"Yeah! And she dragged me off to the bathroom and I fucked the shi-" He cuts off suddenly, gaze wrenching to me. "Shit. Uh, go to bed already kid you're making me nervous..." And I can see clearly the spill of a faint blush on his pale skin.

"Hey! I'm eighteen in five months-" I begin to protest but my papa cuts me off with a wry smile.

"Even I am not old enough to hear some of the stuff he spouts."

And with that I am dismissed to my room with another serving of ice cream.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

They keep me up late into the night, being very loud and drunk I assume. And yet I could not help but still wake up at my bodies programmed ten o'clock, minimal sleep equaling optimal snark for me. I had always hated the mornings. I lay for all of five minutes hoping sleep would reclaim me, but then my stomach growls and I realise it's no use. I pull my favourite red hoodie on as the crisp morning air nips at my arms, yawning as I stumble down the stairs. All is silent in the house so I assume papa is still in bed with a hangover. I can't help but grin at the unusual thought as I pass into the living room.

"Cute PJ's" Comes the already so familiar voice of Gilbert Beilschmidt and I jump a foot in the air and shriek. For a long second I stare at him in absolute horror -of course he would have stayed if he was drunk- and my gaze snaps down to my pants.

Bright pink hello kitty bottoms that Al had bought me as a joke. They were fluffy and soft okay, no judging!

"Thanks." I managed to muster (squeak) before I flee high speed into the kitchen. Heck.

I lean against the counter for a moment, hiding my hot face in my hands. When I manage to avert the oncoming heart attack I finally lift my gaze, catching sight of my reflection in the window. I grimaced, god I looked awful. I attempt to straighten out the extreme bedhead I was rocking and glare at my reflection when the frizz just gets worse.

"Heck." I murmur allowed this and the jump again.

"Uh, everything okay?" He's stood in the doorway now, wearing only his jeans ands a bedhead of his own.

"I was just…" And then I freeze with no idea what to say, apparently my brain was still asleep. And then I remember Alfred's motto, 'just own it' and so I bite my cheek and say with a defeated shrug. "Bad hair day."

"Heh, yeah we all have 'em" He loped passed me without a care in the world to collapse in one of the bar stools.

"Tell me you've got aspirin."

"How drunk did you guys get last night?" I ask not really expecting an answer as I buzz about the kitchen getting medicine and a tall ghalss of water. He shoots me a wink as I hand them over and I still can't help but flush.

"A fuckin' lot… Wait should I be telling you this?"

I roll my eyes, far to grumpy this morning to even reply to that, so I simply flip him off and move to the fridge to collect the ingredients for pancakes. He scoffs but I am used to this kind of back and forth with Alfred, comfortable with it even.

"I'm not a child anymore, even if my dad refuses to believe that." I say coolly, flipping on the burner and mixing up my batter.

"Haha yeah I get that over protective vibe from him, it's sweet. But hey, don't worry your secrets are safe with me." I glance over in time to catch his cheeky grin, and then he glances away to throw back the pills and gulp water. My eyes catch on his bobbing adam's apple and then fall curiously to his bare chest. He's lean, thin I suppose but toned. Hot… I don't really realise I'm ogling until he coughs and snickers.

"I know I'm hot kid but try not to stare to much." My brain immediately goes into panic mode and I blurt the first thing that pops into my head as a worthy excuse.

"A-Actually I was just wondering at your skin, It's almost as white as your hair." It takes me a second to realise he could take offence at that and my eye start up anxiously, his gaze is utterly amused though.

"Heh yeah that's cos I was raised by sharks." He says bluntly and I pause in confusion.

"I thought your mom was struck by lightning?"

"Oh shit, is that what I told you? Well actually I'm albion, it's whatever."

"Huh is that why your eyes are red to?" I asked with near unabashed curiosity now, his eye where my greatest obsession I suppose and as I lean across the counter and stare into their mirth I feel no shame.

"Yeah freaky huh?"

"I think they're cool." I say honesty, and that faint faint blush makes a reappearance but of course weariness flickers in his gaze and he decides to disappear back into the living room.

"I hope I'm getting some of whatever it is you're making?" He calls back after a few awkward minutes and I plate up the first batch for him. He's dressed now and I place a stack for him and papa who had wandered in moments ago, onto the coffee table. I retreat to eat mine in the kitchen, far to flustered and confused at this point. Was he flirting or not?

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After I finish slowly eating my food and even more slowly washing my plate I finally decide now to make a break for it to get dressed. Of course at that moment Gil has also decided he's leaving and as I walk out passed the living room where papas has fallen asleep on the couch I bump into him in the hall. He's throwing on a thick leather jacket and then scoops up a helmet. A motorcycle helmet. I'm stunned into silence but not really surprised, I would expect no less from someone as daring as Gilbert seemed to be. "Heh I know, cool right." He glances around conspicuously, that crooked smirk appearing and I feel my pulse spike in slight anticipation. When he deems the coast is clear he leans in real close and whispers.

"I'll take you for a ride someday if you want, just don't tell your dad…" I can't even breath at this point and I'm sure my face is as red as my sweater, I just stare like an absolute idiot. He pauses there for a moment, staring into my eyes calculatingly and then he murmurs.

"Heh you have purple eyes, that's cool too." When he punctuates his sentence with a wink I can't take it anymore, squeaking and turning to feel and hide up the stair before Papa could wake up and see the mess Gilbert had gotten me into with only a few words. I couldn't play this game, he had too much of an advantage on me…

And yet I find myself having to bite my tongue when I continuously nearly ask papa when Gilbert will be over next.


End file.
